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Handel's Messiah December 14, 2008
This December was the annual performance of Handel’s Messiah. I sang the same solo as I did last year, He Shall Feed His Flock Like A Shepherd, but I felt like I had more help then than now.
In addition to the help of the Spirit, last year I also had a voice coach who worked with me each week on every detail of the piece. This year, even though it was the same song, I felt doubtful of myself because I didn’t have a second opinion. I’m not sure why I needed one. I felt blessed to have the opportunity to participate and was excited to have been chosen for the solo. Unfortunately, I also battled sickness this year; a cold, then a sinus infection, then another cold. When it was finally time to perform, I worried because my practice time had been so minimal.
As I rushed to get ready that night, I felt frazzled and even afraid. I turned to my bed and fell to my knees. I cried out in gratitude for this opportunity and pleaded that the Spirit might speak through me—that even one person might be touched. I recognized my unworthiness, but asked that I might just for a moment be an instrument and testify through my song.
The concert moved swiftly. I felt more excitement than fear, but struggled to focus. I kept losing my place in the choral numbers, and sang the wrong words here and there. I wasn’t worried though, for some reason I still felt calm. Other performers also struggled and stumbled through numbers, even the soloists.
When I moved to the other side of the stage where I would perform my solo, I sat at the edge of the auditorium to wait while another soloist sang on the soprano side. I would sing just after her so I tried to focus on my song but couldn’t help but notice how she struggled. Almost as if I expected fear to sweep over me, I took a deep breath to brace myself. At that moment, it was not fear I felt, but a strengthening in my heart. I was filled with peace. I knew I was not alone. I stood to sing and still expected my knees to start knocking, but they didn’t. I thought my hands would tremble, and they didn’t. I tried to swallow, and I couldn’t. For one brief second I wanted to panic. I could not swallow. The music was started. Still I could not swallow. My part was approaching, just a few measures away, and I could not swallow. Then as if a gentle arm embraced me, and whispered “Remember”, I was filled with that peace once again. It filled deep into my soul, and as quickly as a thought, I relaxed, swallowed, and began singing.
The music flowed from my lips. So perfectly that even I wondered, “Is that me?” I was so comfortable that the message I sang was my only focus…
“Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened,
And the ears of the deaf unstopped.
Then shall the lame man leap as an heart,
And the tongue of the dumb shall sing
He shall feed His flock like a Shepherd
And carry them in His bosom.
And gently lead those that are with young.”
I knew Him as my shepherd. I know Him now. He does lead us—He leads me. He carries me, and He comforts me when I have gone astray.
It was clear to me as I sang there on that stage that the Spirit was speaking through me. Perhaps mine was the only soul that was touched. Perhaps mine was the only heart that heard. But one was enough.
When I finished my part, I stood quietly for the soprano solo that finishes the song. This same sweet love still filled me. It was a calming and peaceful love. The words of the oratorio rang in my heart as the soprano sang,
“Come unto Him all ye that labour,
And He shall give you rest.”
I know I, and everyone, can find rest in Christ. I felt it there on that stage. Tears welled up in my eyes and I was engulfed in my Heavenly Father’s love. I blinked them away tenderly, and smiled gently as the song was finishing.
What an amazing experience! What a blessing to participate and be given such a sweet and wonderful witness of His love for us—for me. I am so grateful.
I know that I am not lost. I know He knows me and loves me. He waited with open arms and now through Christ I can be taken up again in the Spirit and be made whole.
In addition to the help of the Spirit, last year I also had a voice coach who worked with me each week on every detail of the piece. This year, even though it was the same song, I felt doubtful of myself because I didn’t have a second opinion. I’m not sure why I needed one. I felt blessed to have the opportunity to participate and was excited to have been chosen for the solo. Unfortunately, I also battled sickness this year; a cold, then a sinus infection, then another cold. When it was finally time to perform, I worried because my practice time had been so minimal.
As I rushed to get ready that night, I felt frazzled and even afraid. I turned to my bed and fell to my knees. I cried out in gratitude for this opportunity and pleaded that the Spirit might speak through me—that even one person might be touched. I recognized my unworthiness, but asked that I might just for a moment be an instrument and testify through my song.
The concert moved swiftly. I felt more excitement than fear, but struggled to focus. I kept losing my place in the choral numbers, and sang the wrong words here and there. I wasn’t worried though, for some reason I still felt calm. Other performers also struggled and stumbled through numbers, even the soloists.
When I moved to the other side of the stage where I would perform my solo, I sat at the edge of the auditorium to wait while another soloist sang on the soprano side. I would sing just after her so I tried to focus on my song but couldn’t help but notice how she struggled. Almost as if I expected fear to sweep over me, I took a deep breath to brace myself. At that moment, it was not fear I felt, but a strengthening in my heart. I was filled with peace. I knew I was not alone. I stood to sing and still expected my knees to start knocking, but they didn’t. I thought my hands would tremble, and they didn’t. I tried to swallow, and I couldn’t. For one brief second I wanted to panic. I could not swallow. The music was started. Still I could not swallow. My part was approaching, just a few measures away, and I could not swallow. Then as if a gentle arm embraced me, and whispered “Remember”, I was filled with that peace once again. It filled deep into my soul, and as quickly as a thought, I relaxed, swallowed, and began singing.
The music flowed from my lips. So perfectly that even I wondered, “Is that me?” I was so comfortable that the message I sang was my only focus…
“Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened,
And the ears of the deaf unstopped.
Then shall the lame man leap as an heart,
And the tongue of the dumb shall sing
He shall feed His flock like a Shepherd
And carry them in His bosom.
And gently lead those that are with young.”
I knew Him as my shepherd. I know Him now. He does lead us—He leads me. He carries me, and He comforts me when I have gone astray.
It was clear to me as I sang there on that stage that the Spirit was speaking through me. Perhaps mine was the only soul that was touched. Perhaps mine was the only heart that heard. But one was enough.
When I finished my part, I stood quietly for the soprano solo that finishes the song. This same sweet love still filled me. It was a calming and peaceful love. The words of the oratorio rang in my heart as the soprano sang,
“Come unto Him all ye that labour,
And He shall give you rest.”
I know I, and everyone, can find rest in Christ. I felt it there on that stage. Tears welled up in my eyes and I was engulfed in my Heavenly Father’s love. I blinked them away tenderly, and smiled gently as the song was finishing.
What an amazing experience! What a blessing to participate and be given such a sweet and wonderful witness of His love for us—for me. I am so grateful.
I know that I am not lost. I know He knows me and loves me. He waited with open arms and now through Christ I can be taken up again in the Spirit and be made whole.
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